Summary: Dean’s upset when a Cupid marks him with an arrow but not his soulmate, or so he thinks. As he struggles to come to terms, he calls her everything other than her actual name, though maybe that’s just a part of getting struck by true love.
Warnings: language, name calling, kissing, implied smut (established friends with benefits relationship), fluff
A/N: Something silly just for fun. Enjoy… and Happy Valentine’s Day Written for @howbadcanitbebingo.
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“Stupid, Cupid.” Said Dean, walking into the motel room, stripping off his soaked jacket and throwing it onto the chair.
“What are you muttering over there, sourpuss?” You asked, pulling off your wet clothes since you guys had gotten caught in the rain chasing down the monster of the week.
Which turned out not to be the cupid you ran into, who of course Dean just had to go and make friends with. He wasn’t a fan and he made sure to tell you that every two minutes on the ride to the motel.
There wasn’t much privacy in the room to begin with and since the two of you had a sort of friends with benefits thing going on for a while now, you didn’t care to cover up. You’d certainly seen it all and so had Dean.
“Nothing, sweetheart.” He brushed you off, muttering under his breath, “…dumb, giant baby.”
With Valentine’s day fast approaching, Sam took some time off to go who knows where, doing who knows what with Eileen. Leaving you to deal with one very grumpy Dean. He’d been in a mood since the start of the case and there’d been nothing you could do to snap him out of it. And you tried everything, until you’d finally had enough of his attitude.
“That’s it! What is wrong with you, De?” You snapped, tossing your wet shirt at him, leaving you in your bra and jeans. It hit him in the face with a satisfying slap sound and you giggled at the face he made.
“I’m not even talking to you, nosy parker.” He stated, his eyes lingering a little too long on your chest to just be friends and he muttered again, “…frigging, wingless diaper muncher.”
“You’re obviously not talking to anyone else, old man.” You bickered, putting your hands on your hips and staring at him.
“Don’t start with me, sunshine- And you’re not a hell of a lot younger than me so I’d watch it, dollface.” He said, pulling off his wet shirts and tossing them in the pile on the ground with yours.
It was your turn to cast him a lingering glance. He was the perfect combination of soft and muscular and you bit your lip trying to trap a sigh. Your cheeks heating up too quickly, but he didn’t notice, too busy trying to hide his own growing feelings for you.
“I know but you get so angry when I call you a geezer. It’s adorable.” You smirked, you didn’t know why but you always loved teasing him when he was already annoyed.
“And you think that’s funny, little girl?” He asked with a raise of his eyebrows.
“Uh-huh, plus I think you’re kinda cute when you’re all flustered, tough guy.” You chuckled.
“I’m not the one who’s redder than a tomato right now, jiggles.” He pointed out, finally noticing the hue in your cheeks.
“Whatever, nipple sucker.”
“Hey. You like it when I do that, pumpkin.” He said matter-of-factly, his tongue peeking between his lips as he grinned at you and tilted his head.
“That was one time-”
“And every other time after that-”
“Shut up or it’s never happening again, dork.” You threatened, feeling even hotter than before.
“I can hold out a lot longer than you can, sweetness.” He bet, sliding his jeans down his thick thighs, leaving him in just his fitted red boxers. The ones with the little black hearts that you’d gotten him. He watched you squirm and bite the inside of your cheek as you filled with need. “Tough noogies, kitten.”
“Tease.” You called him.
“Brat.”
“Jerk.”
“Ass-butt.”
“Watch it, Dean, your Cas is showing… Hoser.” You muttered.
“Excuse me, peanut, what did you just call me?”
“…Honey.”
“That’s not what you said, darling.” He shook his head.
“How would you know, weirdo? You’ve been ignoring me all night; muttering insults every time you think I’m not listening, dick.” You cursed, finally calling him out on it.
“Not everything’s about you, cupcake.” He shook his head.
“Sure it’s not, babe.” You rolled your eyes, if it hadn’t been something you’d done, it had to be about you. Otherwise, you would’ve gotten it out of him by now, you always did. Sam called it your superpower. “You know I’ll get it out of you sooner or later, buddy, and I’d rather not do this all night. I’ve got other plans in store for you, big guy.”
“If you must know, princess, that damn cupid jabbed me with an arrow before he disappeared. So I’m not really in the mood for your teasing. Alright, buttercup?” Dean explained dryly.
“Alright… Why aren’t you with your soulmate then, Casanova?” You continued to tease ever so slightly.
“The butthead didn’t mark her. Said something about karma- I don’t know, he was still pissed that I punched in the face, the cry-baby.” Dean rolled his eyes, he never liked cupids, especially when they greeted him with a hug in their birthday suit no less.
“Oh… Are you sure about that, handsome? I mean, how do you even know who she is?” You asked, chewing on the edge of your thumbnail.
“Trust me, beautiful, I know. I felt it before he even touched me, it’s just more… intense now.” He said, his emerald eyes searching yours for something.
“So what are you gonna do about it, Romeo?” You egged him on, knowing exactly how he was feeling.
“Not much I can do, sugarplum.” Dean breathed with sad eyes, avoiding your gaze.
“You sure about that, stud muffin?” You asked, scrunching up your forehead.
“Yeah…” He sighed.
“Yeah?” You questioned, squinting up at him and grinning like an idiot.
“Uh- what are you getting at, chipmunk?” He replied, mirroring your grin after a moment.
“He marked me too, squirrel.” You admitted, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth and letting it go slowly.
“When?!”
“While you were renting the room, dumby. Cupids don’t mess around with true love, love-bug.” You said, noticing a look of relief in his bright eyes, like a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. “So, good-looking, you like me, eh?” You asked, wetting your lips in antici… -pation.
“Cuddle bug, you have no idea.” He breathed, closing the distance between you far too slowly for your liking.
“Why don’t you show me, squishy.” You pulled him down by the back of his neck and into a needy kiss.
His lips slipping between yours as he struggled to keep up, still shocked that you were actually meant for him this whole time. He loved the idea of that, belonging to each other after craving all of you for so long. You were written in the stars together.
“Pretty girl, wait.” He panted, breaking the kiss but staying close enough to feel your moist breath on his skin. He was having second thoughts already ‘cuz let’s face it, it’s Dean; he never thinks he’s good enough even when he most definitely is. “Maybe we should call Cas, maybe he can reverse this.”
“Is that even what you want, doofus?” You pleaded, just wanting to keep on kissing him.
“No, Y/N/N. Of course I want you, angel.” But he had to ask one last time. “You sure you want me for keeps, baby girl?”
“Shut up and kiss me, tiger.” You moaned, pulling him down to meet your lips again, letting out a small squeak when he nibbled on your bottom lip and unhooked your bra.
We had been talking about hosting a challenge or bingo together, and almost instantly, when we decided to do a bingo, this idea wrote itself.
What does it mean??
We all feel the pressures of writing, finding that perfectword, worrying if our characters are totally out of character, panicking that we’ve written that same story a hundred times, and all the other worries that come with writing. But we want to throw all of that out of the window and keep things fun, so the point is to WRITE BAD FANFICTION.
Forget the grammar rules (not all of them, it still needs to be readable ), don’t worry about finding the perfect word and write that played out trope all over again (we all love idiots in love), use the prompts on your bingo card and write BADLY.
Please read the rules and FAQs. If there’s anything we haven’t covered, feel free to send an ASK or DM us.
We had been talking about hosting a challenge or bingo together, and almost instantly, when we decided to do a bingo, this idea wrote itself.
What does it mean??
We all feel the pressures of writing, finding that perfectword, worrying if our characters are totally out of character, panicking that we’ve written that same story a hundred times, and all the other worries that come with writing. But we want to throw all of that out of the window and keep things fun, so the point is to WRITE BAD FANFICTION.
Forget the grammar rules (not all of them, it still needs to be readable ), don’t worry about finding the perfect word and write that played out trope all over again (we all love idiots in love), use the prompts on your bingo card and write BADLY.
Please read the rules and FAQs. If there’s anything we haven’t covered, feel free to send an ASK or DM us.
A/N: I’m so excited about posting something for the first time in months. Writing has been tough, but I hope this is the first of more to come. It’s a drabble, but it’s done! I haven’t written anything quite like this before. Thanks for the OOC square @howbadcanitbebingo .
I tried. Honestly, I did, but sometimes it just isn’t worth it anymore. Dean is done. Because of him, I kept on fighting everything that goes bump in the night, all the evil, every twisted thing imaginable for far longer than I otherwise would have. If I’d known things would end up like this, maybe I would have let him do it without me.
Everything we faced and defeated together didn’t matter. In the end, he chose Crowley and being a demon. After all the time I spent looking for him, he told me to fuck off and nearly broke my arm. Fine. That’s it. Dean can be a demon.
I could have had a degree from Stanford. Maybe it’s not too late to go to college. Law doesn’t hold the appeal it once did. Can’t really see any reason to fight for justice when there isn’t any, but there are other options.
I learned one thing spending the last ten years on the road with Dean. Fighting for right will drain you dry until you have nothing left to give. What did all that putting my life on the line, being possessed, and going to hell get me? My brother’s a demon, a demon who doesn’t want to be saved, and I don’t have the normal life I gave up to be a hunter. That’s okay. I have plenty to do without him.
I hold my empty glass up in the direction of the waitress. “Another one.”
She smiles at me before she turns to get my drink. I know what that smile means. It’d be easy to fuck her. As she walks away, I check her out. Girl’s got a nice ass. I think I have plans tonight.
She puts my fresh whiskey down on the table, making sure to bend over and give me a good view of her cleavage while she does it. I let my eyes linger there. She’s offering the view, I’m going to enjoy it.
“What’s your name?” I ask her, slowly bringing my eyes up to hers.
Her smile is even bigger now. “Natalie.”
“What time do you get off, Natalie?” She’s pretty. We’ll have a good time.
Natalie’s fun, and she’s even better looking with her clothes off. That cleavage she was showing off doesn’t disappoint. Her tits are soft in my hands, and she’s so responsive. The sound she makes when I pull one of her nipples into my mouth is a sound I’ve never heard in bed before. Makes me forget I don’t have a brother anymore.
She’s tight and warm. The way she’s clenching my cock, I need to focus to keep from coming too soon. Not yet, I want this to last a little while longer.
I’m enjoying the noises she’s making. I like that I can do that to her. The more she claws at my back, the harder it is to hold off. Finally, I let go, and my mind goes blank. There’s nothing but my throbbing cock and the relief that brings.
For a few minutes after, I lay with her. I remember Jessica, but not for long. It’s only a flash in my mind. Her face, the way she once smiled at me. Then it’s gone. It doesn’t mean anything anymore.
I roll back to Natalie for another go. This time it’s rougher, and she likes it. She’s on her hands and knees; the sound of my skin slapping hers is loud, so loud I imagine that the people in the next room can hear it, and they’re jealous of the fucking I’m getting.
It’s a game for me to see just how deep inside her I can get. The deeper I go, the louder she moans. I grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back.
“You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” I smack her ass when I say it, and her pussy tightens around my cock. It makes me come again.
This time, there’s no lingering in bed when we’re done. I get up and get dressed. My plaid shirt goes on last. It reminds me of who I used to be and what I used to do, but there’s no nostalgia. I wasted a good chunk of my life.
“Room’s paid for tonight if you want to stay,” I tell her.
“You’re leaving?” she asks, like she’s surprised. Maybe she is, but she really shouldn’t be. I didn’t do anything to give her the idea I’d stay.
“Yeah, I’ve got some business in Santa Fe.” That’s a lie. I kept the magic credit card from Charlie. I never have to do anything again, and that’s probably a much better idea than going back to college.
Once I turn from her, I don’t look back. The door closes behind me, and I take the first steps across the parking lot. Baby is waiting for me.
It feels good sitting in the driver’s seat. I turn the key in the ignition and hear her rumble to life. My eyes close, and I listen to her purr. When I open them again, I put her into gear and pull onto the highway.
Somewhere out there Dean is with Crowley. His eyes are black, and he’s doing what demons do. I click on the radio. “Stairway to Heaven” is playing; the music has a lulling sound, but it isn’t a comfort. My brother liked this song. Maybe the demon does too. I don’t know.
We had been talking about hosting a challenge or bingo together, and almost instantly, when we decided to do a bingo, this idea wrote itself.
What does it mean??
We all feel the pressures of writing, finding that perfectword, worrying if our characters are totally out of character, panicking that we’ve written that same story a hundred times, and all the other worries that come with writing. But we want to throw all of that out of the window and keep things fun, so the point is to WRITE BAD FANFICTION.
Forget the grammar rules (not all of them, it still needs to be readable ), don’t worry about finding the perfect word and write that played out trope all over again (we all love idiots in love), use the prompts on your bingo card and write BADLY.
Please read the rules and FAQs. If there’s anything we haven’t covered, feel free to send an ASK or DM us.
